


To Strike Astonishment into Angels

by thelastofmeforever



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex has issues, Alex needs a hug, Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Angst, Bullying, Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Families of Choice, Fluff, Foster Care, Gay John Laurens, Gen, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Immigrants, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lams - Freeform, M/M, No Smut, Past Child Abuse, Rating May Change, they get the job done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-07-25 12:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16197140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelastofmeforever/pseuds/thelastofmeforever
Summary: "Alexander Hamilton had shitty luck.It was just a fact. Two plus two equals four, the earth revolves around the sun, and the universe hates Alexander Hamilton."Alex has been in the United States for less than a year and it's nothing like he thought it would be. After doing an interview about the hurricane that destroyed his town and killed his guardians, he was dumped into the US foster care system and has already gone through four placements. His social worker says the Washingtons are good people. That's what they say about all of them. Maybe this time will be different, but Alex isn't getting his hopes up.Yes I'm Hamiltrash, posting my own foster care au. Not entirely sure where I'm going to take this story. I guess we'll find out together!





	1. Placement Number Five

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from the letter Alexander Hamilton wrote describing the hurricane that got him the money to sail to New York. I also quote and paraphrase parts of that letter in this chapter. You can read the letter in it's entirety here: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Letter_by_Alexander_Hamilton_on_the_hurricane_of_August_1772

Alexander Hamilton had shitty luck. 

It was just a fact. Two plus two equals four, the earth revolves around the sun, and the universe hates Alexander Hamilton.

His father left Alex and his mother when Alex was eight. Two years later Alex and his mother were bedridden, half dead and sitting in their own sick with no money for medicine or anyone to help them. Eventually, Alex had gotten better, but his mother…

Essentially an orphan, Alex was sent to live with his cousin Peter, whom he had never met before. Peter was nice, if a bit odd. He spent most of his time sequestered away in his study, leaving Alex to fend for himself. Alex got a job managing the books for a nearby shopkeeper. He wasn’t legally old enough to have a job, and he knew he was being underpaid, but Alex enjoyed working with numbers and naturally excelled at it. The only downside of this arrangement was his boss, Mr. Cruger. Mr. Cruger was… not a very nice man. 

Despite this, Alex thought that he could actually learn to be happy there, that is, until he came home one day to find Peter’s body hanging from the doorframe. 

From Peter’s, Alex was sent to live with a nearby family, the Stevens. Mister and Missus Stevens were very kind, treating Alex as they did their own children, of which they had three. One of the boys, Edward, had been Alex’s age and they had quickly become friends. Life was looking up for Alex once again.

And then, the hurricane. Oh, god, the hurricane. He could remember the roaring of the sea and wind, the crash of falling houses, the ear-piercing shrieks of the distressed… Alex felt more than justified in believing that that storm would have been enough to astonish angels. When the rain finally stopped and the wind faded, Alex emerged to find the house was gone.

Three days he spent looking for the Stevens family, digging through the ruins of the town with his bare hands, hardly pausing to eat or rest. In the end, all he found was four bodies. He never found Edward.

Now homeless and utterly alone, Alex did the only thing he could think of. He wrote. He poured his soul, his anger, his grief onto pages of water stained loose-leaf paper. He wrote until his hand ached and his eyes blurred with tears. He wrote until his pen ran out of ink. He wrote until his pencil broke in his fingers. And still, he had more to say. He was practically bursting with words. With the need to write. The need to be heard. At fifteen years old, words were all Alexander had left.

The Red Cross came to Nevis a few days after the hurricane. They brought water and rations and medicine and clean clothes. They also brought reporters. Everyone wanted to talk to the survivors. Everyone wanted to hear first-hand what had happened. And Alex obliged. Everything he had written down came pouring out of his mouth. His poetic descriptions of the absolute devastation immediately captivated his audience and before long, Alex had his first stroke of good luck: he was offered an American citizenship.

At least, it should have been a good thing. Looking back now, Alex wasn’t so sure. America was nothing like he’d thought it would be and it quickly became apparent that his status as an immigrant made him a second class citizen. Add that to the fact that he was a bastard and an orphan at the mercy of the American Foster Care System, Alex really never stood a chance.

~

 

Alex shook his head to bring himself back to the present. Now was not the time to dwell on his Tragic Backstory. He was on his way to meet his new foster parents. He rested his aching head against the cool window. His social worker, a peppy young woman fresh out of college, was blabbering animatedly.

“The Washington’s are great people, just the best! They’ve been working with social services for years now. They’ve helped us with a lot of difficult placements over the years, so I’m sure they’ll be able to handle you no problem!”

There was that word again.  _ Difficult _ . Alex was a  _ difficult _ child. Apparently, going through three families and a group home in less than a year made one  _ difficult _ . It was hardly Alex’s fault that all of the families CPS had placed him with had been batshit crazy. Or that he’d had to resort to some rather… unorthodox methods in order to survive at the Swansons. It wasn’t his fault that the Micalesters thought he was a heathen and the spawn of Satan when he’d mentioned in passing that he was bisexual, or that the Heigles…  _ well _ , Alex thought with a shuddered, t _ he less said about them the better _ . And it was certainly not his fault that the rat-faced boy at the group home had ended up with a broken nose and dislocated jaw when he’d refused to keep his hands to himself. Well, maybe that last one was his fault a little, but the asshole deserved it.  Except CPS hadn’t seemed to agree because they’d yanked Alex out of that placement so fast he hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to the few people he’d actually  _ liked _ there. And now he was on his way to meet a new set of strangers who would expect him to follow a new set of strange rules while he lived in this new, strange house in this strange country. Great.

Kitty was still talking. 

“They have one adopted son already, Gerald, or something like that. He’s your age. He’s been with them since he was, like, four. And guess what? He’s an immigrant too! Isn’t that exciting, Alexander?”

_ Absolutely thrilling _ , Alex thought to himself. He pressed a thumb to his split lip as though to remind himself to keep his mouth shut. Not that it mattered. Kitty kept prattling on without waiting for a response. 

“Martha is a nurse and George has a law degree, I think. They have two dogs, but your file said you weren’t allergic so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Truthfully, Alex had never really been around dogs before. At least, not domestic dogs. A few scrappy looking strays had wandered around on Nevis, but they tended to avoid people unless they had food. Alex wondered absently if those dogs had survived the hurricane.

“Oh, here we are!” Kitty exclaimed cheerfully as she turned into the driveway. Alex looked out the window. It was without a doubt one of the biggest houses Alex had ever seen. At least three stories tall and shining white with a front porch that wrapped all the way around the house, Alex hadn’t even know houses like this existed outside of old movies. A tall black fence encircled the pristine yard. That made ALex a bit uneasy. Fences were just as good at keeping people  _ in _ as they were at keeping them  _ out _ . The gate had been left open in expectation for their arrival and Alex watched open mouthed as they cruised along the winding driveway.

“Holy shit, this is the biggest thing I’ve ever seen!” The words slipped out unintentionally as Alex pressed his hands against the window and craned his neck to try to keep the whole house in view as the car drew to a stop in front of the house.

“Language, Alexander! Imagine if the Washington’s had heard you talking like that! They are highly respected members of the community. It would be in your best interest to act a little more sophisticated.” Kitty said primly as she fluffed her hair and checked her makeup in the mirror. Alex bit his tongue. It pissed him off whenever someone implied that he was dim or uncivilized just because he came from the Caribbean. Like being an immigrant made a person lesser. But Alex knew better than to start a confrontation.

Kitty unbuckled her seatbelt and Alex quickly followed suit, grateful to finally be able to stretch his legs after such a long drive. Kitty pulled a black garbage bag out of the backseat and passed it to Alex. It contained all of his belongings, except for his notebooks and his mother’s old books that he kept in the rugged backpack that currently hung from his shoulder. Alex twisted the bag to get a better grip as he followed Kitty up to the door. She rung the doorbell and Alex could hear a tinkling melody from inside followed by barking.

“One moment please!” A voice called. “Hush, Jacky, Patsy! Sit!” The barking quieted and a moment later the door opened to reveal, Alex assumed, Martha Washington. Mrs. Washington was average height for a woman, and curvy, with bright red hair that was twisted up in a stylishly messy bun. She wore paint-stained jeans and a faded t-shirt over which she wore an oversized flannel. Two dogs sat behind her wagging their tails eagerly as the stared at the guests. If Alex had to guess, he’d say one was a poodle and the other was some kind of collie.

“Oh! You must be with Social Services! Sorry about my appearance, I was painting and loss track of time.” Mrs. Washington said with a smile.

“No problem at all!” Kitty chirped. SHe stuck out her hand. “I’m Kitty Livingston and this is ALexander Hamilton.”

Martha shook Kitty’s hand amiably before offering her hand to Alex. He took it hesitantly and hoped she wouldn’t notice the still vivid bruising on his knuckles. If she did, she gave no indication. Instead, she stepped aside and waved them in. “How about we go to the living room? Please make yourself at home. George should be down any minute. Can I get you anything to drink, Kitty? Alexander?” 

Alex shook his head as he took a seat on the sleek sofa at the opposite end from his social worker and dropped the garbage bag at his feet. Kitty asked for a cup of coffee, if they had it. While Martha went to the kitchen, Alex slid his backpack off of his shoulders and pulled it into his lap, trying to use it as a barrier between him and the rest of the room. The collie looking dog came up and sniffed him curiously. Alex patted it gingerly on the head. Martha returned with a steaming blue mug in one hand and two bottles of water in the other. She passed the mug to Kitty and then handed Alex one of the water bottles. “In case you change your mind,” she said with a wink. She twisted the cap off of her own bottle and took a swig.

Alex was oddly touched by Mrs. Washington’s thoughtful gesture and tucked the bottle into one of the pockets of his backpack. At the same time, footsteps sounded from the hall. The dogs yipped happily and ran quickly towards the sound.

“Ah, that’ll be George now.”

A figure entered the room and ALex felt his heart shudder. George Washington was  _ huge _ . At least six feet tall and fit, with arms that bulged with muscle, Mr. Washington struck an intimidating figure. He didn’t even stumble as both dogs jumped at his legs, trying to catch his attention.

Alex pulled his backpack closer to his chest and pressed down hard on one of the fresh bruises on his arm. It ached and the pain forced Alex to take a deep breath, which in turn hurt his bruised ribs. But it made him calm down enough to focus. Everything was fine. Kitty was still here. No one was going to hurt him. Yet.


	2. Je M'appelle Lafayette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys really blew me away with your response! I was worried that this idea was too cliche and had already been done better by so many writers that no one would be interested, but I guess cliches are cliche for a reason! Thank you so much for your support, everyone!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Hamilton. I am not Lin Manuel Miranda, unfortunately.

Kitty left, of course. Alex knew she would eventually, but even still, he couldn't help but feel abandoned. Not that he really trusted Kitty, or even really liked her. She was a bit dim frankly, and she had spent most of the meeting with the Washingtons talking about all of Alex’s  _ issues _ . How he talked back and got in fights and had attacked his previous guardian. Which wasn't even true! Well, it was, but it wasn't the full story. Still, the point was, Kitty had left him and despite his less than fond feelings for her, Alex knew that she, at least, would never purposefully hurt him.

Alex could not say the same about the Washingtons. Mr. Washington was a giant, even bigger than Mr. Heigle had been, and dammit if that wasn't terrifying. Mr. Washington could easily break bones if he got mad enough, Alex had no doubt about that. But Washington seemed pretty calm at the moment. Maybe it was because his wife was in the room.

Mrs. Washington was looking at Alex with a smile so bright that it made Alex uncomfortable. She didn't know him, so why did she look so happy to see him?

“Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Alexander. Do you go by Alexander, or do you prefer Alex?”

“Alex is fine,” the boy mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes. Instead he looked around the sitting room. The furniture looked very expensive and Alex’s ratty sneakers looked even more ragged when contrasted with the fine carpet. One wall was lined with a bookshelf holding countless volumes. From his spot on the couch, Alex could make out a few titles. There seemed to be everything from law textbooks to fantasy novels. Alex wondered if he would be allowed to read any of them. Probably not. 

“Alex then. I'm Martha and my husband's name is George. You are welcome to call us that.”

Alex nodded. No way in hell was he calling his new foster parents by their first names.

“Our son, Gilbert, is about your age. He should be home any minute…”

Alex heard the front door open and an accented voice rang out. “Mere, Pere! Is he here yet?”

“Speak of the devil.” Mr. Washington said, sounding amused.

Just then a boy burst into the room. He was tall and thin, but not scrawny like Alex. He had light brown skin and wild curls that were pulled back into a bun. He wore a sleek floral top and a pair of flattering skinny jeans and some killer boots. He was practically bouncing with excitement. 

“Is he here yet? Is he here yet?” The boy asked again, before catching sight of Alex. He squealed in delight. “He  _ is  _ here! Why did you not tell me?” He shot an accusing glare at his parents. 

Mr. Washington snorted. “Must have slipped our minds.”

Gilbert ignored his father and bounded right up to Alex and stuck his hand out.

“Bonjour, mon ami! Je suis tellement excitée de vous rencontrer!” 

Alex cautiously shook the offered hand. “Bonjour. Je m’appelle Alex. Ravi de vous rencontrer aussi.”

Gilbert’s eyes widened in surprise before a grin split his face. “Tu parle français?”

Alex nodded. “Oui. Et anglaise et espagnol.”

“Ha ha!” Gilbert cheered in delight, bouncing once more.

“You speak French, Alex?” 

Alex hunched over slightly as Mr. Washington addressed him. He nodded shyly.

“And Spanish!” Gilbert told his father.

“How wonderful!” Martha said. “George and I aren't fluent so it will be nice for Gilbert to have someone to talk to in his native language.”

Gilbert let out an exaggerated groan and looked at Alex with a serious expression.

“Please do not call me _Gilbert_. Only George and Martha call me that. My friends call me Lafayette.”

They were friends? Alex nodded despite his confusion. 

“Have you seen your room yet?” Lafayette asked him.

“We haven't had a chance to show it to him yet.” Mrs. Washington cut in quickly, watching her exuberant son with affection. “I assume you would like to do the honors?”

Lafayette nodded eagerly and grabbed Alex’s wrist. Alex recoiled sharply. He saw Lafayette’s eyebrows furrow in concern. Alex barely had time to panic before the other boy had moved on.

“Come, mon ami! I will show you to your room! It is right next door to mine!”

Alex slung his backpack over his shoulder and followed Lafayette up the stairs. Lafayette pointed out different rooms as they passed.

“This is the study… and this is Martha’s sewing room… and here is George’s office…”

Finally they came to a stop in front of two doors.

“This is my room,” Lafayette said and he opened the door to give Alex a peek inside. His only impression was “colorful”. Lafayette closed the door again.

“And this,” He grabbed the handle of the other door, “is your room.” He threw the door open.

The room was spacious, painted a light blue with off-white baseboards. There was a tall window opposite the door that let the natural light in. A wooden desk sat against one wall and an empty bookshelf lined the other. The bed was a double and it looked sinfully comfortable. Through another doorway, Alex could see a bathroom. 

“The closet is a bit small, at least, for me. But, then again, I have a lot of clothes,” Lafayette continued, hardly pausing in his chatter as he pressed onward into the bedroom. Alex followed hesitantly. Part of him was worried that he would dirty the room just by stepping in it.

“There is a full bathroom through there,” Lafayette pointed, “so you won't have to share with anyone. I'll have to give you the WiFi password. Do you have a phone, Alexander?”

“No,” Alex replied absently as he moved slowly through his room.

“Hm. We'll have to fix that.”

Alex ignored Lafayette in favor of looking out the window. It was a beautiful view, showing a spacious backyard and a colorful flower bed.

Lafayette continued to talk, unperturbed by Alex’s monosyllabic response. “The dogs know not to come into any of the bedrooms without permission, so you won't have to worry about them. And there's a lock on the door if you ever want some privacy. Be warned though, I can pick locks. Well, kind of.”

Alex moved away from the window to the bed and pressed down on the mattress. Memory foam.

“And this is all mine?” He asked quietly, waiting for Lafayette to say that he was only joking and take everything away.

But Lafayette only blinked in surprise. “Of course, my friend.”

Alex closed his eyes firmly for a moment and forced himself to get a grip. When he opened his eyes, he looked directly at Lafayette. 

“Thank you.”

Lafayette smiled brightly. “It is nothing, mon cher.”

“No,” Alex said earnestly. “ _ Thank you.” _

Lafayette’s expression softened and his smile turned gentle. “You are welcome, mon ami. You deserve it.”

Alex’s face scrunched. “You don't even know me.”

“Not yet,” Lafayette conceded, “but I can tell.” He winked and then disappeared out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

Alex set his bag on the floor and flopped back on the bed. It was even more comfortable than he had imagined. The events of the day were catching up with him quickly and his eyes slipped shut against his will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote this outside, in the dark, on my phone so please forgive any spelling/grammar mistakes. Also, I took two years of French in high school but my teacher was psycho so sorry for any inaccuracies. Please leave comments, constructive criticism, and kudos to let me know what you think. Next update should be out soon. Thanks for reading!


	3. Dinner with the Washingtons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Hamilton  
> Trigger Warning: light blood, fear of violence, references to past child abuse  
> I am not fluent in French, so please feel free to correct me on any errors and please point out any spelling/grammar errors so I can fix them.

Alex woke to a loud pounding on the door. He shot upright, shoulders hunched, with both hands held out to ward off an impending blow. A blow that never came. Alex blinked several times and shook his head, trying to clear out the cobwebs of sleep. The room was darker that it had been before he’d fallen asleep and the sky outside the window was now streaked with pink and purple. Someone was knocking loudly on the door to his room. 

“Alex! Alex, are you in there? It is time for food! Alexander?”

Alex dragged himself to his feet and trudged to open the door. He had half a second to panic as he realized that he’d left the door unlocked while he was asleep; who knows what could have happened, before he opened the door and Lafayette stumbled in mid-knock and quickly regaining his balance.

“Ah, there you are, mon ami! Come, it's time for les souper. Mère made pot roast!” He sounded unreasonably pleased. Alex meekly followed the older boy down the stairs. They passed through the living room where they had met earlier and into a spacious kitchen. 

It was by far the nicest kitchen Alex had ever been in. All of the appliances were new and looked to be stainless steel. Pots and pans hung from the ceiling the way Alex had only seen on the front of magazines. There was a breakfast bar with tall leather chairs and a rather cliche bowl of fruit. The dogs were in the corner devouring their own dinner. There was a round table to the left that Mr Washington was setting. He turned when the boys entered. 

“Ah, Gilbert, Alex, just in time. Martha’s just about to take the rolls out of the oven. Could you wash your hands and bring the salad and lemonade in?”

“Ben sûr, Papa!” Lafayette agreed happily and he skipped over to the kitchen, nearly bumping into Mrs. Washington as she carried a basket of yeast rolls to the table. 

“Marie Joseph don't you run in my kitchen,” Mrs. Washington warned firmly but not unkindly. Even still, Alex took a wider berth of her than necessary. 

“Sorry, Maman!” Lafayette called back as he handed Alex the salad bowl.

“Sure you are,” she responded, but she sounded playful.

Alex waited for Lafayette to collect the pitcher of lemonade and then followed him back to the table.

“Okay, everyone find your seats while I go get the pot roast.” Mrs. Washington ordered. Mr. Washington moved to intercept her. 

“I can get it, darling.”

“No need, my love, I've got it.”

Mr. Washington acquiesced and took a seat at the table. Lafayette sat next to his father and Alex hesitantly took a seat next to Lafayette. 

It was odd. He had never been placed with a couple that was so obviously in love as the Washingtons. The Steven’s had been an “old married couple” but the Washington’s acted as though they were still newlyweds. Mr. Washington’s eyes followed his wife with fondness everywhere she went and Mrs. Washington smiled adoringly every time she caught him looking. The Swanson’s had rarely been in the house at the same time and when they were they were either fighting, sleeping, or loudly getting it on. The Mcallisters had had an old fashioned marriage where Mrs. Micalister acted subservient to her husband and bent to his will. She had catered to his every whim and didn’t even question him when he hit Alex or even her. But Mrs. Washington had contradicted her husband to his face, had given him an order, and had received nothing but an affectionate sigh in return. The Heigil’s marriage was better left unmentioned.

“Here we are!” 

Mrs. Washington swept over, looking oddly graceful with her hands full of pot roast. She sat the meat in the center of the table and quickly took her seat next to her husband. Mr. and Mrs. Washington held hands. Mr. Washington took Lafayette’s hand as well. Mrs. Washington looked at Alex.

“I hope you don’t mind if we pray before we eat, Alex, dear.”

Alexander shifted uncomfortably. He hadn’t prayed since his mother had died. They had never been very religious, but Rachel had insisted on blessing every meal they had. She would always say that every meal was a gift and that by thanking God for it, they would be nourished and kept healthy. That had turned out well.

“You do not have to if you do not wish to, mon ami.” Lafayette said softly. “We really only pray before meals. And we only attend church on holidays.”

Alex looked nervously at Mr. Washington to check that it was really alright for him to sit this out. Mr. Washington noticed Alex’s look and smiled.

“We would never ask you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

Well Alex wasn’t going to fall for that, but he decided to at least accept it as permission to not participate. He clasped his hands in his lap. Mrs. Washington reached across him and took Lafayette’s other hand. Alex had to force himself not to lean away from her close proximity.

“Dear God, we thank you for this day and for this meal that has been prepared. We thank you for all that we have been able to do today, God, and we thank you for our good health. God, we thank you for each other and for bringing Alex into our lives-”

The rest of the prayer was lost to Alex. Surely Mr. Washington didn’t mean that. Why would they be thankful for him? As far as they knew, he was just a bastard, orphan, immigrant with violent tendencies and an attitude problem that they had been burdened with. He meant nothing to them and yet Mr. Washington had thanked God for forcing him on their perfect little family. Wasn’t lying to God a sin?

But no lightning came to strike Mr. Washington down and as soon as the final “amen” had been said, Lafayette was diving for the pot roast, quickly loading his plate. Alex hesitantly took a roll and a spoonful of steamed vegetables. Lafayette looked disapprovingly at Alex’s plate and added a large portion of roast to Alex’s meager meal. 

Alex tentatively speared a bit of meat with his fork and put it in his mouth. He almost moaned with delight. The mean was tender, seeming to melt like butter on his tongue, and juicy with flavor. Alex quickly shoveled another bite into his mouth. Ignoring the conversation around him, Alex quickly devoured his meal. It’s the most he’d eaten in ages. At some point, one of the dogs approached him and plopped its head in Alex’s lap, looking pleadingly up at him with wide, dark eyes. It was obvious the animal wanted food, but Alex didn’t dare try to sneak him any. God only knew what would happen if he were caught. But the dog looked so sad, surely he could manage to sneak just a little bit of roast…

“Jacky, leave Alex alone, you beggar dog. You’ve already had your dinner.” Mrs. Washington’s exasperated reprimand brought Alex’s attention back to the others at the table. He noticed that while his plate was now empty, everyone else had only cleared half their plates. He looked down at his lap.  _ God, they must think I’m so rude, stuffing my face like that. Disgusting. _

“Would you like seconds, Alex?” Mr. Washington interrupted his self deprecating thoughts. Alex froze at being addressed. He had no idea how to answer the question. Yes, he was still hungry, but the last thing he wanted to be in front of this new family was greedy. Thankfully, Lafayette took the decision into his own hands and ladened Alex’s plate again. Alex smiled gratefully at the other boy and began to eat again. This time he paid attention to the conversation around him.

“I was thinking that we would go to the mall tomorrow. John needs some new shoes and Hercules wants some new fabric for his current project.” Lafayette was saying.

Alex had no idea what he was talking about.

“Maybe Alexander can go with us and we can pick up some things for him?”

Things? What things? And why did Lafayette want Alex to go with him to shop with, Alex assumed, his friends? Alex didn’t get along with a lot of people and he was sure to ruin their day. He was  _ difficult _ after all. But Mrs. Washington seemed to disagree.

“That’s a wonderful idea, Gilbert. I’ll leave you my card and a list of things you need to get before I leave in the morning. Will you be driving?”

“Oui. John will be coming here and then we’ll meet up with Herc at the mall. We’ll probably eat out for lunch if that’s okay.”

“That’s perfect.” Mrs. Washington reassured him.

“Merveilleux! We shall leave after breakfast then.”

“Are you okay with that, Alex?” It was Mr. Washington who asked the question. Lafayette turned quickly to Alex, looking slightly panicked.

“You do not have to come if you do not want to, mon ami. My friends would like to meet you but they can wait if you are not comfortable.” Lafayette said in concern. 

Alex thought briefly for a second. Mrs. Washington had already said that she was leaving in the morning and with Lafayette gone with his friends, there was a chance that Alex would be left alone with Mr. Washington. That was not acceptable. Besides, all there was to do at the house was write in his notebook or reread his mother’s books for the hundredth time. He didn’t dare assume that he could touch anything in the house without express permission and there was no way in hell he was going to ask.

“I’ll go with Lafayette, if that’s okay.” Alex replied, glancing nervously at the adults. Both of them smiled at him. 

“That’s perfectly fine, son.” Mr. Washington assured him. Alex grimaced at being called “son” but didn’t say anything. Backtalk was a sure fire way to get hit. Thankfully, Mr. Washington didn’t notice his distaste, or, if he did, he didn’t mention it.

The Washington’s spent a few more minutes talking about this and that before they began to wander away from the table. Mr. Washington was the first to leave, wiping his mouth on a napkin before announcing that he had work to do and would be in his office. His wife followed him, saying she would take the dogs out to the bathroom. Lafayette stayed a few minutes longer, asking Alex arbitrary questions about his likes and dislikes before he said that he needed to text his friends and leaving to go upstairs.

Now alone, Alex looked at the table covered with dirty dishes and left over food. Biting back a sigh, he began collecting the discarded plates. He cleared the empty dishes first, stacking them neatly beside the sink before rinsing them one by one and loading them into the dishwasher. At the group home, it had always been Alex’s job to do the dishes. There hadn't been a dishwasher there, so Alex had had to hand wash dishes for seven other boys plus the adults. Once the empty dishes were loaded, he moved on to the leftovers. As quietly as he could, Alex began looking through the cabinets, trying to find tupperware. He easily located it in the cabinet to the left of the dishwasher. Pulling out what he needed, he began to scoop the leftover steamed vegetables into a plastic container. He was halfway finished with the pot roast when he was interrupted. 

“Oh, Alex, you didn’t have to do that!”

Alex startled so badly that the leftover pot roast fell to the floor. The porcelain dish shattered against the tile and all Alex could do was stare in horror. Mrs. Washington said something, but it sounded muffled over the panic in Alex’s head.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed, even though his lungs felt like they were trying to draw breath underwater. He dropped to his knees and began to pick up the shards of porcelain. Thankfully, it had only broken into a couple of large pieces, so they were easy to gather. They were still sharp, however, and Alex winced as he sliced one of his fingers on an edge. The dogs, which must have come in with Mrs. Washington, converged on the feast-covered floor.

“Jacky, Patsy, no!” Mrs. Washington commanded, but the mutts ignored her, happily lapping up every shred of roast that they could get. Alex flinched as a wet nose bumped against his bleeding hand. The same dog that had begged Alex for food earlier, Jacky, whimpered at the smell of his blood.

“What is it, Jacky-boy?” Mrs. Washington asked, carefully stepping towards the dog. Alex couldn’t help but shrink back as she neared. He tried to hide his bleeding hand behind his uninjured one, but it was too late.

“Oh dear!” She exclaimed. She quickly grabbed a clean hand towel from one of the drawers and crouched down next to Alex. She must have mistaken his flinch when she grabbed his hand as one of pain, because she muttered “sorry” as she wrapped his hand tightly in the rag. She then took the shards of broken porcelain from Alex’s other hand and tossed them in the garbage can.

“Come on, now, love, let’s get you up.”

Alex muttered “sorry” once again and allowed Mrs. Washington to help him get to his feet, but he remained tense and silent. He fully expected to be beaten for the mess he’d made. She led him back to the living room and sat him down on the sofa just as Lafayette was coming down the stairs, typing on his cell phone. When he looked up, his eyes widened in alarm and he shoved the phone into his pocket.

“Sacré bleu! What happened?” He rushed forward and threw himself down next to Alex, grabbing his wrist in concern.

“It’s nothing,” Alex attempted to assure him, but Mrs. Washington spoke over him.

“Just an accident with a bit of glass, nothing to worry about. Will you keep pressure on this, Gilbert, while I go get the first aid kit?”

Lafayette’s hands immediately replaced his mother’s and she left the room in a hurry.

“How did this happen, mon ami?”

Alex shrugged. “I was cleaning up dinner and I dropped a dish.” He spoke softly, afraid that Lafayette would be angry for some reason.

“Oh, mon ami, you did not have to clean up after us. We would have taken care of it ourselves later tonight.”

Alex shrugged again. “I did the dishes at my last house too. It’s no big deal.”

“You cut your hand open, mon cher,” Lafayette said, worry, for some reason, was evident in his tone, “that is a big deal.”

Another shrug. “I’ve had worse. It’s fine.”

Lafayette opened his mouth to respond, probably to say that it was most certainly  _ not  _ fine, but Mrs. Washington returned before any sound could come out.

“Here we go,” she said, setting a large red case marked with a white “+” on the coffee table. She opened it quickly and removed an individually packaged alcohol wipe. She tore the package open and unfolded the wipe. “Let’s see that hand, then.”

Lafayette obligingly released his grip on Alex’s injury and peeled back the now ruined towel. The bleeding had stopped but the finger was rather messy. Mrs. Washington gently wiped the wound clean. Alex twitched as the alcohol stung and didn’t respond when Mrs. Washington apologized again. After the wound was clean, she smeared some antibiotic cream on it (Alex recognized it from his own numerous experiences doing first aid) and wrapped it neatly in a bandage.

“There!” She said happily, “nice to see I haven’t lost my touch!”

She began to pack up the kit again. Alex shot Lafayette a questioning look. 

“Maman was an ER nurse for many years before she married Papa.” Lafayette explained.

“I still do some volunteer work with the Red Cross from time to time. Mostly blood drives and the like.” Mrs. Washington added. Alex forced himself not to react at the mention of the Red Cross.

Mrs. Washington snapped the first aid kit shut. “Why don’t you boys head upstairs to rest? I’ll put this away and go then go find George.”

“Please don’t tell him I broke the dish.” The words were out before Alex could even consider them. Lafayette and Mrs. Washington looked at him in confusion and concern.

“Why?” Lafayette inquired.

Alex hesitated briefly before murmuring, “He’ll be mad.”

Mrs. Washington let out a soft laugh before replying, “I assure you, he won’t be. But I won’t tell him if you don’t want me to.”

Alex nodded thankfully.

“Goodnight, boys.”

“Goodnight, Maman.” Lafayette responded. He gently pulled Alex to his feet and led him up the stairs. They came to a stop outside of Alex’s bedroom and Lafayette asked, “Do you want me to stay with you?”

Alex bit his lip. “No, thank you. I think I’d like some time alone.”

Lafayette agreed easily. “Very well, mon ami. I will see you in the morning. Bonne nuit.”

“Bonne nuit,” Alex parroted as he slipped into his room. He locked the door and, without turning on the light, kicked his shoes off, and stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers before collapsing onto the bed. 

Now that all of the excitement had died down, Alex had time to think about Mrs. Washington’s reaction. She hadn’t hit him for dropping the food. In fact, she hadn’t even yelled at him. Surely she had been angry, Alex had ruined a perfectly good plate, not to mention half a pot roast, but she had just fretted over his hurt fingers like a mother hen. 

_ Like a mother. _

Alex pushed that thought away. Maybe she just hadn’t wanted blood on her floor. Maybe she was waiting to punish him later. Maybe she was going to let Mr. Washington punish him. That was a chilling thought. But Mrs. Washington had said that he wouldn’t be mad. She even promised not to tell him. Not that Alex believed that she wouldn’t. 

And Lafayette, he had seemed disapproving when Alex had said that he’d been cleaning up after dinner. Was he not supposed to? If not, why did the Washingtons all leave him at the table after eating? Alex had done twice as many dished at the group home and that had been by hand. Compared to that, loading a dishwasher had been a breeze.

And why had they cared so much when Alex had been hurt? Alex had been hurt many, many times since coming to America, and no one had given a shit before. Maybe it was because Alex was new here. Once they got used to his presence, they would start ignoring him. The thought was both comforting and painful. While it would be nice to not have to worry about drawing Mr. Washington’s attention, Alex had enjoyed getting to talk to Lafayette. He was nice and cheerful and seemed to actually like Alex. And Mrs. Washington reminded him painfully of his mother, which was both bitter and sweet.

Alex curled up under his blankets and closed his eyes. He would worry about it tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit longer with over 3,000 words but I am a little worried that it was a bit boring. Please let me know what you think and leave kudos if you enjoyed it. Next chapter will be Alex meeting the rest of the Revolutionary Set. Please stay tuned. Love you guys!


	4. In uno dos tres, Out cuatro, cinco, seis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me forever for my muse to return, but at last, here I am! And with a long chapter to boot! Thank you for all of your encouragement during my hiatus, your kind words give me strength. (Trigger warning for panic attacks and implied/referenced child abuse) (please excuse any grammar/spelling mistakes, especially for the French and Spanish. I am fluent in neither and am using Google Translate)(Disclaimer: I do not own Hamilton)

Lafayette’s friend was hot.

Like, goddamn. 

He had long brown hair that formed perfect ringlets and a smattering of freckles across his face that reminded Alex of stargazing in Nevis. He had gorgeous brown eyes that were level with Alex’s and a smile that could blind if observed directly. 

For Alex, it was love at first sight. 

Well, almost. Their first meeting had definitely left something to be desired of.

_ Alex had woken up early as usual. His sleep had been fraught with nightmares, which was also usual. If it wasn't memories of previous foster homes tormenting him in his dreams, it was visions of pouring rain and raging wind. Alex was pretty much resigned to it now and usually compensated for his lost hours with coffee. But at 6:30 am, he had sincerely doubted that the any of the Washington’s would have prepared any yet. Even if they had been, they might not let him have any. Maybe they were those kind of people who thought that teenagers shouldn’t drink coffee. God, that was a terrifying thought. _

_ To distract himself from his coffee craving, Alex had pulled out his notebook. It was a cheap spiral bound notebook that he’d gotten on clearance for 50 cents. It was stained with food and coffee and tears and even a bit of blood. And it was almost full. Alex didn’t know where he would get another one. He had no money, but living without somewhere to write, somewhere to pour out his most private thoughts, was an unbearable thought. _

_ Alex shook his head and forced himself to focus. He had been halfway through writing an essay on the importance of gun control and his fingers were itching to write. He put pen to paper. _

_ When he had next looked up and checked the bedside clock, it was 8:23. Alex didn't know if he was allowed out of his room, but the craving for coffee had grown too strong to ignore, forcing Alex to get out of bed. The floor was cool enough to make him shiver as he crept out of his room. He moved slowly, making sure the boards didn't squeak. The floors were genuine hardwood. Hopefully, anyone who heard him moving about would just think it was the creaking of the old house. Alex didn't even want to imagine what would happen if the Washingtons caught him sneaking around the house without permission. _

_ Alex finally made it downstairs and made a beeline to the kitchen and the coffee pot, only to stop short at the sight of a complete stranger already using it. _

_ A really hot stranger. _

_ Judging from the back, the boy was roughly Alex’s age and damn, he had a nice ass. His hair was long and curly and his skin was a light brown. He was humming something that Alex didn't recognize.  _

_ The boy turned suddenly and caught sight of Alex. _

_ “Holy shit!” The boy jumped in the air, his eyes blown wide in surprise. Alex hastily took a step back. He had yet to meet someone who appreciated being startled and this boy was obviously stronger than Alex. His biceps were well defined but not overly so and it wasn't hard to imagine that underneath that shirt were stellar abs. What Alex wouldn't give to see them… _

_ Focus, Hamilton. Alex scolded himself as he forced his attention back to the beautiful stranger. _

_ The boy had a hand pressed over his heart but he looked significantly less frightened now. He let out a shaky laugh. _

_ “Man, you scared the shit out of me!” _

_ Alex opened his mouth to apologize but nothing came out. The boy had freckles covering his face like stars. Alex could feel a fantasy forming in the back of his mind where both he laid in bed with the stranger and counted every single one… _

_ “I guess you're Alex, then.” It was more of a statement than a question, but Alex nodded all the same despite his confusion at how this potential intruder knew his name. The stranger must have noticed his confusion. _

_ “Laf told me about you. I’m John Laurens, by the way.” He held out a hand. Alex took it cautiously and gave it a quick shake. _

_ “Um… does Lafayette… know you’re here?” Alex asked hesitantly. _

_ “Hmm?” John hummed as he turned back to the coffee maker. “Oh! Yeah! I mean, no, he’s probably still asleep. But it’s okay, I have a key.” He assured Alex. _

_ “So you didn’t break in or anything, right?” _

_ John laughed and the sound made Alex’s heart stutter. “No, no. I’m allowed to be here, I swear. This is practically my second home.” He opened the cabinet above the coffee maker and pulled out two mugs. “You want coffee?” _

_ “Please,” Alex answered quickly, trying not to sound too desperate. John filled both mugs and handed one to Alex.  _

_ “There’s creamer in the fridge if you want any,” John told him as he opened a ceramic jar on the counter and began spooning sugar into his coffee.  _

_ Alex hummed negatively and took a deep drink from his mug.  _

_ The coffee was obviously expensive. It was rich and wonderfully bitter and had a smooth texture that contrasted sharply with the sludge that he had had to get by on in his previous homes.  _

_ Alex let out a moan of delight and let his eyes slip shut. _

_ “I guess you like it then?” John’s voice cut through Alex’s haze of caffeine induced pleasure. WIthout opening his eyes, Alex nodded vigorously and then took another sip.  _

_ They stood in comfortable silence, each focused on their own coffee, until Lafayette stumbled in. He accepted a mug of coffee from John and guzzled it down quickly before dragging Alex back upstairs to get ready. _

~

Why were there so many goddamn people up and about at 10 in the morning? Alex couldn’t help but wonder as he weaved between throngs of people, trying desperately to make his short legs match Lafayette’s long strides. Lafayette, tall as he was, was able to easily cut a path through the crowd. Alex and John, who were both a good three inches shorter, could only follow close behind and hope that they wouldn’t be swallowed up by the sea of people.

Lafayette steered them towards the food court and secured them a table for four. 

Then they waited. Lafayette and John chatted aimlessly, occasionally asking Alex’s opinion or trying to draw him into the conversation, but Alex, much to his embarrassment, found that he couldn’t speak to John without stuttering, staring, or blushing. He was completely flustered as he had never been before. Thankfully, Lafayette seemed to gather that Alex was not in the mood to talk and easily diverted John’s attention with talk some mutual friend that was currently on vacation. Seeing as Alex didn’t know the person they were discussing, he was free from having to weigh in. 

Lafayette, however, caught his eye and cast a significant look at John. Alex blushed and Lafayette grinned triumphantly. 

Shit.

“-and Angelica said she took lots of pictures of the Jackson Pollock exhibit… what?” John cut himself off, looking between his two companions.

Alex’s eyes went wide with panic and he tried to silently will Lafayette to keep his goddamn mouth shut. Thankfully, it seemed to work.

“Nothing, mon ami. Oh look, Hercules!” Lafayette jumped to his feet and rushed around the table to embrace the new arrival. 

“Hercules”, Alex decided, was a very fitting name. While no taller than Lafayette, Hercules was broad shouldered and obviously well muscled. He had dark skin and short black hair but despite his intimidating appearance, he had the same friendly aura as his friends. 

“Hercules Mulligan.” He offered Alex his hand and Alex hesitated for only a moment before accepting it. 

“Alexander Hamilton.”

Hercules smiled. “Nice to meet you, man.”

Alex barely had time to respond with a “you too,” before Lafayette was fluttering around, chattering excitedly as he herded them out of the food court. Hercules listened patiently, nodding and laughing in all the appropriate places, while John hung back and fell into step with Alex. John offered him a smile that made Alex flush scarlet again. Neither boy spoke and it was surprisingly not awkward as they followed leisurely behind Hercules and Lafayette.

Eventually, Lafayette led them into a clothing store. As soon as they had entered, Lafayette rounded on Alex. “Now, what size are you, Alexander?”

“What? Why?” Alex asked, startled.

“So we know what clothes to have you try on.” Lafayette explained.

Alex was confused. “I already have clothes.”

Lafayette clicked his tongue. “One bag of  _ de lambeaux _ clothes does not a wardrobe make, mon ami.”

Alex felt his ears grow warm with embarrassment. His clothes were not tattered, they were second-hand, there’s a difference. But Alex was not about to argue this point. Instead, he just said, “I don’t know.”

Lafayette tutted again. “Hercules.”

The other boy stepped up and looked at Alex closely. “Can you hold your arms out?”

Alex did as he was told and Hercules hummed under his breath. Finally, and to Alex’s great astonishment, he rattled off what sounded like his exact measurements. Lafayette hummed happily and immediately disappeared into the isles of clothing. Hercules caught Alex’s shocked expression. 

“I’ve worked with my grandmother as a tailor since I was a kid, so I’ve gotten pretty good at guessing people’s measurements.” That was the only explanation he gave before vanishing after Lafayette. 

Within a span of twenty minutes both boys were back, each carrying mounds of clothing. Alex looked at it wide-eyed and didn’t even protest as Lafayette hustled him into a changing room with an outfit and instructions to “Try it on and then come show us.”

The confined space of the dressing room made Alex nervous, but not wanting to disappoint Lafayette, he forced the feeling away and quickly stripped down and redressed in the outfit that had been selected for him. The clothes were stiff with newness that Alex had never felt before and he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable as he stepped out of the dressing room.

Lafayette looked at him critically. “I like the henley alright, but the cut of the jeans is no good. What do you think, Hercules?”

Hercules nodded in agreement. “We should also try a darker wash on the jeans.”

“What do you think, Alex?” John asked.

Alex looked down at himself. He was wearing a short sleeved red shirt and a pair of light blue jeans. He thought he looked fine, but Lafayette and Hercules obviously disagreed. Alex decided to play it safe and respond with, “It’s alright.”

Lafayette obviously took this as permission to force another outfit into Alex’s arms and send him scurrying back into the changing room.

The next hour or so continued in much the same fashion, with Alex putting on whatever was given to him and then Lafayette and Hercules systematically tearing the outfit apart and sorting each item into “yes” and “no” piles. John sat silently in the corner, watching the proceedings and only speaking to ask Alex his thoughts. Alex answered noncommittally each time. 

As the “yes” pile began to outgrow the “no” pile, Alex began to find it hard to breathe.

His hands trembled as he fumbled to put on the next shirt and he nearly fell over as he stepped into a pair of khaki trousers. He didn’t even bother to look at himself in the mirror before gritting his teeth and stepping out to show Lafayette and Hercules. 

As the two boys picked apart his outfit, Alex closed his eyes tightly. The store’s lights had grown increasingly bright over the past hour and he could hear the buzzing of the electricity through the walls. His lungs seemed to have shrunk as well and his heart was trying to beat out of his chest.

Something touched his hand and he jumped in surprise and no small amount of fear.

“Are you alright?”

Alex opened his eyes and saw John’s concerned face no more than a foot from his own. Alex swallowed the lump in his throat and forced out a “fine.”

John looked unconvinced but he let it go, instead telling his friends, “I think that’s enough clothes for now. Let’s move on. I still haven’t gotten my shoes.”

Shoe shopping took considerably less time than clothes shopping, with Alex choosing a single pair of white sneakers and Lafayette and Hercules choosing a pair of brown boots and a pair of dress shoes. John, meanwhile, made off with only a pair red high tops.

As they walked to the check out, Lafayette snagged a belt, a package of underwear, socks, and two ties from displays as they passed.

The cashier looked completely indifferent as the group of teenagers hoisted their pile of goods onto the counter. As she scanned each item, Alex anxiously watched as the price climbed higher and higher. By the time it passed one hundred dollars, Alex felt ready to faint. 

“Your total is $152.76.” 

Lafayette passed over a credit card like it was nothing. Alex was starting to feel nauseous.

Next, Lafayette led the group to an electronics store where he immediately selected the same model of phone for Alex as his own. Lafayette passed the phone to Alex, who accepted it with numb hands. 

“Go pick out a phone case,” Lafayette ordered him before swanning off towards the laptops.

Hardly able to focus on anything other than how damn hard it was to get a decent breath of air, Alex wandered over to the wall of cell phone cases and stared at them blankly for a moment, before beginning the search for the cheapest one. Eventually, he found a plain, transparent case for $6.99. 

Feeling strangely proud of himself for his thriftiness in the face of Lafayette’s mass spending, Alex hurried to show Lafayette his selection. Lafayette, however, was not impressed.

“This is no good, mon ami. We must find one to fit your personnalité. Surely there was another one you liked? A pretty one?”

To Alex’s horror, he felt his eyes filling up with tears. He thought he had done well. He found the most affordable option and saved the Washington’s money. They were already spending an appalling amount on him and he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve these nice things. He couldn’t even follow Lafayette’s instructions for god’s sake and Mr. Washington was going to be furious at how much money they wasted and Alex was going to be yelled at or beaten or sent away or-

“Alex? Alex, c’mon, breathe.”

Who was talking to him?

“Breathe Alex, you can do it.”

Breathe?

“ _ Breathe _ , Alex.”

He  _ couldn’t _ breathe. Why didn’t they understand?

“Alex, I know you’re scared, but I need you to really focus. If you don’t breathe, you’ll pass out. C’mon, cariño. In, uno, dos, tres _.  _ Out, cuatro, cinco, seis _. _ ”

Spanish. Someone was speaking Spanish to him. 

Gathering the splintered fragments of his focus, Alex zeroed in on the words.

In, uno, dos, tres _.  _ Out, cuatro, cinco, seis _. _

After what felt like a lifetime, a gasping sob broke past the wall in Alex’s throat. Then another. And another.

“There you go. There you go, cariño. Just breathe. In, uno, dos, tres _.  _ Out, cuatro, cinco, seis. Muy bien, Alex. You’re alright. Just breathe.”

Alex listened to the voice and spent several minutes just breathing in and out slowly. Eventually, Alex peeled his eyes open. His lashes and cheeks were wet with tears and his nose was running freely. Suddenly too tired to feel embarrassed, Alex raised a hand and wiped his nose with his sleeve. A hand reached out and dried his cheeks for him.

Abruptly realizing that there was another person with him, Alex looked up. He didn’t know who he was expecting. Maybe Lafayette. Maybe a kindly stranger. One person he was not expecting was John Laurens. And he most certainly was not expecting the look of compassionate understanding in the other boy’s eyes.

“All better now?” John whispered.

Swallowing thickly, Alex nodded. 

“Thanks.”

John smiled brightly. “No problem.” 

They sat in silence for several minutes before Alex mustered up the courage to speak.

“How did you know?”

John’s face crumpled in confusion. “Know what?”

Alex stared at him. “That I spoke Spanish.”

John’s eyebrows shot up. “You do?” When Alex nodded, he continued. “Honestly, I had no idea. I learned it from my mom growing up. We used it all the time.”

“Is your mom Latina?”

John nodded. “She was.”

Alex felt his heart drop at the very telling “was”. 

“Anyway, I had no idea you spoke Spanish.”

Alex allowed the obvious redirect. “Yeah, I learned it growing up too.”

Suddenly, Alex realized that they were no longer in the electronics store.

“Are we in the men’s bathroom?”

John flushed a little. “Yeah. I couldn’t think of anywhere else. I had a lot of panic attacks in middle school and I always hid in the bathroom so…”

Alex reddened too. “I’m sorry I freaked out.”

“No worries, man. Laf can get a little bit caught up in himself and he sometimes forgets about other people. I’m sorry I didn’t step in earlier.”

Alex shrugged. “It’s just… they’re spending  _ so much money…” _

John chuckled and Alex was surprised to find that the sound didn’t make him feel insecure. On the contrary, it made him feel warm.

“Trust me, Alex, if there’s one family that can afford all of this, it’s the Washingtons.”

“So they won’t be mad?” 

Alex bit his tongue. He hadn’t actually meant to say that. But John just smiled.

“Not at all.” John suddenly sprang to his feet. “C’mon. I told Laf and Herc to meet us at the food court when they’re done with their shopping spree. In the meantime, you and I are going to get smoothies.”

John reached down and clasped Alex’s hand and pulled him to his feet. He kept up a stream of friendly, inane chatter as they walked. But Alex couldn’t help but notice that John never let go of his hand.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! We finally have the full Revolutionary Set! I hope you liked Alex and John's first meeting and your first taste of Lams! I don't know when the next chapter will be, it all depends on my fickle muse. Please leave kudos and drop a comment. I love hearing from you guys!

**Author's Note:**

> You probably noticed that I directly quoted and paraphrased some of them musical. Points if you caught it.  
> I also took names from actual historical figures like Kitty Livingston, Edward Stevens, and Jackie and Patsy. My sources are here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexander_Hamilton  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martha_Washington
> 
> Updates will be a bit irregular (sorry everyone) but I will not abandon this story without telling you first. This fic is not beta read so sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes. Please feel free to comment and leave kudos if you liked it so far!


End file.
